She uttered a little cry at sight of
him, and turned to run away. Then she thought better of it, and
stood her ground. Just what John might be going to do or say to her
she did not know, but she thought he was entitled to do almost
anything, and stood prepared for it, her face buried in her hands.
John had been a little irritated at the sight of her, but her
evident terror moved him, as it had before. He was, through and
through, the best type of physician; a man whose first and ruling
impulse was always to help and heal, whether it was body or soul, or
only feelings. Joy, standing with her face hidden, felt him laying
his hands, smooth and strong, over hers.
"Aren't you even going to look at the fiance you've picked out?" she
heard him say half-amusedly. "Why, I'm not going to hurt you, child."
He took her hands down. She let him, and raised her eyes to his
kindly, wise steel-gray ones. He seemed to be regarding her in a
friendly fashion, and she dared to look at him friendlily, too--even
to smile a little. He brought to her the same sense of brightness
and well-being that she had experienced before, and her heart felt
lighter, though by every law of reason she should have been more
ashamed than ever, confronted with him, there alone.
"Of course you won't hurt me," she said. "But--well, when you steal
anybody's name and get engaged to it, they have a right to be cross.
You can be, if you want to, and I won't say a word.
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